Divinity
by muhnemma
Summary: A group of Carthaki nobles are intent on causing havoc in Tortall. Daine deals with an enigmatic character and Numair deals with his changing feelings towards his student as they battle this new threat to their country. Set between EM and ROTG
1. A Familiar Face

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters, they all belong to Tamora Pierce.

* * *

The tavern was packed almost to bursting, as it always was on one of the larger market days. Many had travelled from the capital's outlying villages to purchase the rarer items that couldn't be found in their small communities. Those who hadn't left for home before darkness fell decided to pass the night in Corus rather than risk travelling on the roads, which were often dangerous even in the daylight. Now they all jostled against each other, seeking to claim a bit of floor space to sleep on as almost every bed in the city had long since been rented for the night. 

In a small corner of the tavern, as far removed from the bustle and noise as possible, sat two women. Like the others they had visited the city for market day, but they weren't from any distant village; both of them worked at the palace. They sat close together, heads down, critically surveying what they had bought a few hours before. Once they were satisfied that they hadn't missed any fault during their inspection at the market stall, they allowed themselves to relax. They sipped the wine that had been provided for them, pleasantly cool in the crowded room, and fell into idle conversation.

The door swung open and another man slipped into the chaos. Although he too was a stranger in Corus, it was clear that he wasn't from any of the nearby villages or hamlets. He walked with a rigid back and grimaced whenever anyone brushed against him, disgust contorting his handsome features. His attire was mostly modest, but he displayed some obvious signs of wealth: a ruby glinted in the lobe of his right ear and the edges of the shirt which peeked out from underneath his tunic were finest red silk. With swiftness and grace that belied his powerful build, he dodged through the crowd to arrive at the rough wooden counter that served as a bar. He began speaking quickly and quietly to the man serving drinks to the deluge of customers, casting furtive looks around the room.

One of the women, the younger one with a mass of brown curls, glanced up from her battered tankard. As she caught sight of the newcomer, her eyes first widened in shock before narrowing in distaste. She leaned close to her companion and murmured something in her ear. The older woman rolled her eyes and shook her head. At that moment the newcomer moved away from the bar, following the man he'd been talking to as he moved to a door in the back of the room. Before her companion could protest further, the young woman dived beneath their table. A few seconds later a cat darted out, running towards the two men. The older woman called after her, but after attracting more than a few curious glances she snatched up their purchases and the small pile of clothes on the floor and hurried from the tavern, all the while muttering mutinously under her breath.

The woman-turned-cat followed unnoticed behind the man as they left the main room and entered a small corridor. The tavern worker indicated a door at the end of the hallway before hurrying back to his customers, looking relieved to be away. Being careful to stay in the shadows, the woman-cat slipped after the man as he entered the new room.

"Abran!" A gruff voice called. "What kept you?"

"I had difficulty finding this place. This city is worse than a maze," the man known as Abran took a seat next to the cold grate, where two other men awaited him. Like him their attire spoke of wealth, and their accented Common suggested they were not natives of Tortall.

"Are you _sure _it is wise to meet here?" One of the men asked. He was at least a head smaller than his companions and his eyes constantly darted about the room, as if he expected to be leapt upon at any moment. "We're so close to that fool and his palace, if someone were to-"

"We have explained our reasons countless times," the man who had greeted Abran snarled. "This city is the largest in the land and people from every imaginable country reside here. If we were to go to a smaller city we would stick out like tigers amongst kittens. Here we will go unnoticed."

"Our meeting will be brief, Benat," Abran sneered, not bothering to conceal the contempt in his voice. "I trust you can contain your cowardice for a few minutes."

Anger at being spoken to in such a way and fear of the two larger men played over Benat's face. For a moment it looked as if he might argue back, but then the fear won out and his mouth shut with an audible snap. Crossing his arms over his chest, he sank as far as he could into his tattered armchair. While all eyes were focussed on Benat, the woman-cat took the opportunity to slink closer to the small group, hoping to hear everything that was said without being seen.

Abran paused for a moment, relishing Benat's submission, before addressing the other man. "Where are they?" He asked.

"Unforeseen circumstances have forced them to take a longer route," the man said, frowning. "Nevertheless, they should still arrive at Green Lake before the week is out."

Abran drummed his long fingers against the chair. "Isn't the road an option? Felek is leading, he knows enough about concealment magic to-"

"There are fifteen in the company, excluding Felek." The man interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. "Out of all of them he's the only mage. He cannot risk a draining before…" He trailed off, his eyes coming to rest on something crouching in the shadows beneath Abran's chair. "Beast!" He roared suddenly, leaping to his feet and advancing on the woman-cat's hiding place. "Evil creature!" He aimed a kick at the woman-cat, but she easily dodged him and the blow landed instead on Abran's shin.

"It's just a cat!" Benat cried over Abran's howl of pain and anger.

"They're wicked!" The man snarled. "They bring nothing but bad luck!" He lunged at her, but she darted around him and jumped onto the windowsill and then out of the open window. Once in the street, she didn't slow her pace until she found a dark alleyway. She slipped inside and a few moments later a starling burst out, winging its way towards the bright lights of the palace.


	2. Preparations

Daine shivered and pulled the robe tighter around her. Although she wore nothing beneath the robe it wasn't the chill in the air that made her tremble, but the three pairs of eyes staring at her with what was becoming an all too familiar mixture of anxiety and weariness. She'd expected to have to rouse Numair from the latest book or experiment he was engrossed in, but when she returned from bustling streets of Corus it was to find him waiting for her. Once Onua left the tavern, the horsemistress had sought him out and informed him of his student's odd behaviour. As soon as Daine had told them what she'd heard in the small back room they'd marched her to King Jonathon's chambers, where she'd recounted the story for a second time.

When she finished speaking, Jon sat back in a chair with a sigh. "I don't know what made you follow that man, but it's fortunate for us that you did." He said.

Daine smiled wryly. "I recognised him from Carthak and remembered that he was none too friendly with us while we were there. He was especially fond of spitting poison at me and Alanna when he thought I couldn't hear."

Jon's eyebrows twitched, and in response to his silent question Daine said, "I think his words were 'heathen wenches who need to be put back in their Gods given place.'"

"Charming," Numair said dryly. "He's very fortunate that Alanna wasn't the one in hearing range when he said that. I can't imagine she would have let a little thing like the peace negotiations prevent her from breaking a few bones."

"Were any names mentioned?" Jon asked.

Daine frowned in concentration, trying to recall the details of the discussion she'd heard. At the time she'd been too occupied with trying to avoid notice to pick up the finer points of what was being said. "The twitchy one was called Benat," she said eventually. "The one I followed was called Adran or Adram, something like that."

"Abran?" Numair and Jon asked simultaneously, swapping dark looks.

"Yes, that was it." Daine said, nodding.

"Who is he?" Onua asked, speaking for almost the first time since the meeting began. Daine knew that she had unnerved her by following a man who had both the king and the realm's greatest mage looking so grim, but it couldn't be helped.

"A Carthaki noble," Jon replied. "A great supporter of Ozorne. He's been causing terrible trouble for Kaddar since he came to the throne."

"Benat is his brother-in-law," Numair put in. "If he's involved in Abran's rabble rousing you can wager it's not out of choice." A look of distaste flickered over his face and his eyes waxed darker with something close to anger. "Abran believes that his sister married below her station and he doesn't let Benat forget it. He's been bullying and manipulating him as he sees fit since the day they became family."

"If he's trying to stir up trouble in Carthak, why is he here?" Daine asked, a small frown creasing her brow. If he was trying to destabilise Kaddar, she couldn't see why he was in Tortall rather than Carthak, where the inexperienced new emperor was trying to rule a fragile country still reeling from the shock of Ozorne's departure and the destruction of most of the palace.

Jon sighed and sat back in his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose as he thought. "Who can say?" He said. "It's a possibility that he might be planning to attack us on a small scale and cause enough trouble to push us into declaring war on Carthak."

Before Daine could ask why he would want to plunge his own country into war, Numair offered the answer. "Kaddar's hold on power is, at this time, tenuous at best. As foul as he was, the majority of the nobles strongly supported Ozorne and they fear that his nephew is a progressive."

"The slaves," Daine said quietly.

Numair nodded. "To them, the emancipation – freeing," he added, seeing Daine's confused look, "of some of the slaves is a sign of Carthak's decline. They're worried about their land, their privileges, but not yet worried enough to try and topple Kaddar. An attack on the country might prove to be the last straw." He gave a brief, humourless laugh and shook his head. "But all of this is mere speculation. Knowing Abran, he might be causing trouble just for the fun of it."

"Green Lake," Jon muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. "There should be a Rider Group in the area." He raised his head and his eyes sought Numair's. "I'm sorry to ask this of you, especially after everything that happened in Carthak, but-"

Numair waved his hand, cutting Jon off. "No need to apologise. We'll start out at first light."

"Thank you," Jon said, the relief he felt clear in his voice. "I would have requested that Alanna make the journey, but I'm loath to ask her to leave George and the children so soon." He stood up and stretched before concealing a yawn behind his hand. "I'll get in touch with the Rider Group and tell them to stay put until you can meet up with them."

Reaching the door, he pulled it open and then paused, looking back at Daine and Numair with amusement dancing in his eyes. "Try not to get into too much trouble on the journey. Pulling down palaces and awakening the dead is all very well and good in other countries, but if you do it here then I'll be the one lumbered with the paperwork."

* * *

Alone in her room, Daine quickly changed into a fresh shirt and breeches before beginning to pack for the long journey that lay ahead of her. While she folded clothes and stowed them neatly in her pack she talked to Kitten, telling her where they were going and why. The dragonet chirped happily, excited about the trip that would take them out of the palace and its grounds. For her this was a new adventure, a chance to unravel new mysteries and befriend intriguing people while testing her ever growing powers. 

There was a light tap on the door. "Come in!" Daine called, not bothering to look up from her work. At this time of night it would be Numair, come to check her progress, or Onua, come to scold her for putting herself in danger at the tavern. Neither would be offended if she continued to pack while they talked.

Behind her she heard the door open, and a voice said, "Evening, Miss Sarrasri."

Turning, she found Perin standing in the doorway. They had known each other since before the trip to Carthak, but it was only in the month since her return that they had come close to becoming friends. The clerk didn't seem to know whether to be terrified of her or in awe, and despite her best efforts he still refused to address her by her first name. "How many times must I tell you?" She said, grinning. "It's Daine. My ma used to call me Miss Sarrasri when I raided her pantry for cakes."

That drew a smile from him, albeit a small one. "Daine," he said softly, after a moment of hesitation. He paused again, perhaps waiting to see if anything disastrous would happen. When the walls didn't cave in and Daine didn't turn into a creature with enormous fangs and claws, he continued. "I hear that you're leaving us again, _Daine_." He emphasised her name, as if enjoying the feel of the new word on his tongue.

Daine looked at him curiously. "How do you know that?"

"I was bidden to deliver a message to His Majesty and was waiting outside his chambers," Perin explained. "I didn't mean to overhear, but I couldn't avoid it when he opened the door." There was another long pause, during which he shuffled uncomfortably and avoided Daine's gaze while she waited patiently for him to speak. "I wanted to wish you a safe and quick journey," he said, just as Daine herself was about to break the silence.

"Thank you, that's very nice of-" Daine was cut off mid sentence as Perin crossed the distance between them with a few long strides, placed his hands on her shoulders and pressed a kiss against her cheek. He dropped his arms quickly and stepped back, looking mortified. Cheeks a flaming red, he hurried out of her room, almost bumping into Numair in his haste to get away.

Numair watched him almost run down the corridor. "Is everything alright?" He asked, turning to Daine.

"Hmmm?" She said, touching her cheek lightly with her fingertips.

"I asked if everything is alright."

Daine shook herself and pulled her hand away. She could figure out Perin and the kiss later; there would be plenty of time for that during the long, uneventful hours of riding that faced her the next day. "Everything's fine," she said.

Numair's raised eyebrow suggested that he didn't quite believe her, but he didn't press her for more information. Instead he walked over to the small armchair in the corner and perched himself on it, looking uncomfortable. "I want to talk about the trip to Green Lake," he said, lowering his eyes to the floor.

"What about it?" She asked, resuming her packing.

"I think you should stay at the palace."

Almost dropping the spare pair of stockings she was trying to cram into her pack, she steadied herself and turned slowly to face Numair. He was still determinedly looking anywhere but at her. "Why?" She asked.

"You could still be weak from all the divine power moving through you while we were in Carthak," he mumbled. "I don't want to put you in any unnecessary danger."

"Odd's bobs, Numair," she growled. "It's been more than a month since Carthak! I could have regained my strength five times over in that time."

"Even so, I think it would be wise if-"

"I'm not staying here," she interrupted. "We've fought together ever since you started teaching me. Why do you suddenly think I can't do it?"

"I _know _you're perfectly capable of fighting and defending yourself, it's just…" He trailed off and sighed. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'm going," she said firmly. "Just you try to leave here without me, you won't get more'n half a mile away before Spots dumps you."

Numair sighed again and rose to his feet. "As you wish, magelet. I'll meet you at the stables at dawn." He left almost as quickly as Perin had, stopping only to shut the door behind him.

Daine shook her head and flopped wearily onto the bed. Between Perin's affections and Numair's sudden surge of over protectiveness, she'd have enough to keep her mind occupied for the whole journey to Green Lake.


	3. Meeting with the Riders

Light was only just beginning to tinge the sky when Daine hurried down the grassy slope that led to the stables, Kitten trotting happily beside her. She'd managed to convince a sleepy servant in the kitchens to part with several bread rolls, and she nibbled at them as she walked. The practical part of her mind, the part that normally spoke with Cloud's voice, said that she should eat something more substantial to sustain her on the long morning ride until the midday meal, but the tight knot of tension in her stomach wouldn't ease long enough for her to eat anything larger.

Just thinking about the journey to Green Lake made her feel ill. Whatever was happening there, if Abran was behind it she knew it wouldn't be pleasant. As horrid as the man who had tried to kick her in the tavern was, Abran seemed far worse. Being near him the previous day had made her tremble and, thinking back, he'd had the same effect on her in Carthak. It wasn't the scathing remarks he made about her and Alanna, she'd long since grown used to folk flinging hurtful words at her, but the way he'd looked at them. It was impossible to miss the intense hatred in his gaze, and almost as difficult to comprehend how he could loathe people he barely knew.

Entering the stables, she called out a silent greeting to Cloud and offered her the apple she'd been given in the kitchens. The drowsy pony accepted it eagerly, but not before telling Daine she should be grateful she hadn't taken a bite out of her arm for rousing her so early. Kitten strolled by the stalls, stopping to sniff the horses who weren't too afraid of her. Numair hadn't arrived by the time Daine had saddled Cloud, so she moved to Spots and equipped him with his tack.

The bell had just rung out the seventh hour when Numair strode into the stable, his gaze riveted on a piece of crisp parchment in his hand. Raising his eyes, he noticed Daine and gave a start. "I didn't expect you to be here this early," he said, folding the parchment carefully and sliding it into the pocket of his riding breeches.

She shrugged. "I didn't get much sleep, and I thought I might as well make myself useful rather than lie around in bed."

Numair frowned. "You didn't rest? Are you absolutely _sure _you want to…" Seeing her resolute gaze, he trailed off and sighed irritably. "Of course you still want to," he muttered, abruptly turning away from her and moving towards Spots. He was very slow to anger, but, like Daine, he wasn't a morning person and at this hour of the day his patience was thin. She frowned at his back, rigid and tense, but said nothing. Taking into account his sudden, inexplicable protectiveness of her as well as his early morning temper, she could forgive him for his shortness.

When he reached the place where Spots' saddle was normally kept and realised his mount was already wearing it, he sighed again, this time softly. "I'm sorry," he said, moving away from Spots to prepare their pack horse, Mangle, instead.

"You don't need to be sorry," Daine said gently. "I'd just like to know why you suddenly think I can't defend myself."

"I have every faith in your abilities," Numair said sharply, turning to face her so she could see there was no lie in his eyes. "I also have every faith that whatever Abran has planned will be nasty. The man has a talent for viciousness and cruelty, if you can call a natural inclination for such things a 'talent.'"

"He can't be worse than Ozorne," Daine murmured, and then instantly regretted it. Numair's usually full lips thinned as they pressed tightly together, and his face paled. The deep, rich brown eyes flared and grew darker, standing out shockingly against the sudden pallor of his skin. Without another word, he resumed preparing Mangle. It wouldn't be until they were on the road, clear of the palace and Corus, that Daine would try speaking to him again.

* * *

Once Numair was in something close to a good mood, the first day of the ride past quickly. It was already dark by the time they decided to stop for the night. As there were no inns or taverns on their route, they left the road and began to scout the forest for a good place to make camp. Eventually they stumbled onto a grassy clearing, where Daine pitched the tent and dug the latrine while Numair prepared and cooked the supper. 

Sitting next to the fire, her belly full for the first time all day, Daine watched Kitten snooze. She thought longingly of the warm bedroll waiting for her in the tent, but after a glance at Numair she pushed the idea of sleep away. He'd lapsed into silence again, staring into the dying flames with a frown.

As much as she hated to risk angering him or starting an argument, she had to ask the question that had been buzzing in her mind all day and for most of the previous night. "Numair," she said quietly. "Why didn't you want me to come?"

Even though they were sitting a fair distance apart, she saw his back become rigid once again. "I told you earlier," he said stiffly. "I don't want to put you in any unnecessary danger."

"You've asked me to do dangerous things before now," she pointed out. "You wanted me to risk capture by Carthaki raiders during the siege on Pirate's Swoop. Meeting up with a Rider Group seems far less dangerous than that."

"We're not just meeting up with a Rider Group; we're trying to find out what Abran is up to."

"Why should fighting Abran be any differing from fighting Carthaki raiders, or Tristan Staghorn, or bandits?" She asked.

Numair sprang to his feet. "Because he is just like him!" He was almost shouting and Kitten was startled awake. She whistled angrily, irritated at being woken so rudely. "He is every bit as cruel and sadistic as Ozorne, and I will not let you…" He trailed off, shaking his head. "Not again," he said softly. "Never again."

Turning, he strode away and disappeared inside the tent. Daine watched him go, wishing she had never said anything.

* * *

The afternoon of the second day had past its zenith when Numair declared that they were now in range of the Rider camp. He straightened in the saddle and, shading his eyes from the sun, began to scan the area. "Would you transform and scout this part of the forest?" He asked. "I will continue along the road so you can find me easily." 

Nodding, Daine slid smoothly from Cloud's back to the ground. She bit back a smile as Numair watched her enviously; although most of the time his movements possessed an undeniable grace, he couldn't dismount a horse without looking like a fool. Closing her eyes, she filled her mind with images of sleek feathers and powerful wings. Seconds later her clothes crumpled to the floor and a hawk sprang out of them, flying up into the air.

The usual urge to wheel about and really exercise her wings rose up, but she pushed it aside easily. She flew over the forest and dipped just beneath the canopy of leaves, weaving in and out the topmost branches of the trees. All the while she kept her sharp eyes fixed on the ground; she was determined not to pass by her target. After only a few minutes of flight she spotted signs of a camp: tents, the smoking remains of a fire and movement.

She had already begun her descent before she realised that something was wrong. Each Rider Group normally had around seven members, but as Daine grew closer she could see that there was at least double that number in the camp. Deciding she needed a less conspicuous form to investigate further, she transformed from hawk to starling and swooped down to settle on a low branch, silently praying that no one on the ground had witnessed the shape shift.

From her new position, she could see that less than half of the number wore the Rider uniform. Most of the others were attired in filthy clothes or poor armour, and these she identified as bandits. A couple, clad in high quality armour and toting vicious looking blades, were most likely mercenaries. Four of the Riders, all of them men, had been forced to their knees, their hands and feet bound with thick rope. The ragtag group of bandits and mercenaries watched them with sharp eyes, silencing them with a punch or kick if one dared to open his mouth.

Looking for the remaining Riders, she found them lined up next to a large tree. They were all women and, like the men, their feet and hands were bound but they were standing. Their eyes kept flicking to a sturdy branch of the tree, where a noose swayed ominously in the breeze.

Daine screamed with her wild magic. Over twenty bird answered her call; sparrows, chaffinches and wrens. She cautioned them not to come close, and then proceeded to press the image of Numair into their minds, pleading with them to lead him to her. Ordering them to peck him if they needed to, she wished them luck and then sent them on their way. She was confident that Numair would know to follow the birds, and that he would realise that something was wrong as she wasn't returning to him herself; she just hoped he figured it out quickly.

Next she reached out for squirrels, voles, martens; anything small with sharp teeth. After showing them images of the bandits and mercenaries and ordering them to run if they were spotted by one, she set them to work gnawing at the ropes that bound the Riders. With the Riders being in such close proximity to their captors this was a risky strategy, but there was nothing else she could do. Her bow and quiver were still with Cloud, and although she was certain she could dispatch at least a couple of bandits in the form of a bear or a mountain lion, it wouldn't be long before they felled her with blades and arrows.

Turning her attention back to the group, her eyes fell on a man she hadn't noticed before. He was dressed in a robe of royal blue silk, and his grey hair was swept back in a horse tail. Fixed on his collar was a large, sparkling ruby. By the way the other men shuffled nervously as he approached and lowered their gazes deferentially, Daine guessed that he was their leader. He halted in front of the Rider men and addressed them in a booming voice.

"You are weak," he snarled. "You cannot believe you are anything but. You, trained fighters, have been overpowered by nothing but common thugs," he waved his arm to indicate the bandits. A couple of them looked like they'd very much like to protest against being called 'common thugs', but at a warning look from the grey haired leader they shut their mouths and lowered their eyes again.

The leader nodded in satisfaction and resumed his speech. "Do you know the reason for your weakness?"

"You snuck up on us," one of the Riders spat. "And you outnumber us by two to one. You're nothing more than a cowa-" The Rider was cut off as one the bandits kicked him sharply in his side. He gasped and fell sideways, only to be forced back on to his knees again.

"The reason for your weakness," the leader continued. "Is standing in front of you." He turned away from them and walked slowly to where the women stood guarded by two dagger wielding bandits. Standing next to one of the female Riders, he slid his fingers beneath her chin and turned her face to the men. She struggled and cursed, but a blow to her cheek stilled her. "This is why you are weak," he hissed. "You fight side by side with harlots such as these. The Gods punish those who don't stay in the places appointed to them, and this one," he let go of the woman, withdrawing his hand as if touching her disgusted him. "Has definitely left her place."

The leader moved back towards the men. Before he spoke again he surveyed each of their faces, a smirk curving his lips. "You are almost as rotten as those whores," he pointed towards the women. "Because you allow them to act as they do. But perhaps you can be redeemed. In time, we shall see. However, they can never be redeemed and we cannot allow such abominations to remain and pollute other women."

"You," he addressed one of the bandits guarding the women. "Take her to the noose."

The sudden uproar from the Rider men was swiftly silence with fists. One of the bandits grabbed the woman who the leader had slapped earlier, and began dragging her towards the tree. She struggled all she could, but with both her hands and feet tied there was little she could do to defend herself.

Forgetting that she'd done all she could, forgetting that if she revealed herself she would probably be killed instantly, Daine leapt from the tree. She refused to stand by and watch someone be murdered when she was the only person who could help. The Rider could have been Onua, Miri, or any of her friends who this man would consider to be an 'abomination'. As she fell, she took the shape that came most naturally to her. What hit the floor was not a starling, but a large grey wolf, its teeth bared in a growl.

Staying in the shadows of the trees, Daine slunk over to where the Rider and the bandit struggled. If she was going to stand a chance of helping the woman, she couldn't be seen until the last second. Luckily for her, all eyes in the camp were fixed on the drama that was unfolding before them. She reached her destination unnoticed and readied herself for the attack.

As the bandit slipped the noose over the woman's jerking head, Daine pounced and sank her fangs into his leg.


	4. Fear

The bandit howled in pain and shock and attempted to kick Daine off. She refused to be moved, digging her fangs in deeper and pushing down the wave of disgust as blood and filth entered her mouth. Whether the Goddess decided to bless her or the other bandits were frozen by surprise she didn't know, but for a few precious seconds no one moved to help her captive. The spell was broken all too soon and someone, she assumed it was their leader, bellowed, "Kill the beast!"

She clung on for a few moments longer, determined to keep their attention away from the Riders for as long as possible. That brief hesitation cost her dearly. The bandit remembered his dagger, and ripped it from the pocket he had thrust it into whilst struggling with the Rider woman. He brought it down in a quick slash. As she felt the cold steel bite into her flesh, Daine yelped and released his leg. Seeing him raise the dagger again, she quickly dodged to the side, avoiding being run through by the blade by a hair's-breadth.

The other bandits were approaching quickly and she knew she couldn't fight them all. Briefly, she considered turning into a bird or a mouse, something small that would be difficult to capture or kill. But she had already lost a lot of blood from the gash in her side; if transforming into a smaller creature didn't kill her outright, it would probably disorientate her enough to render her incapable of fleeing her enemy. Her only hope was that there would be a large animal, perhaps a bear or another wolf, nearby who could come to her aid. She only had to find them in time.

Too late. One of the bandits put an arrow to his bow and pulled back the string. Helpless, she watched as he loosed it.

The arrow was halfway to her when it exploded, sending hundreds of splinters scattering harmlessly to the ground. Dumbfounded, the bandits stared around them in search of the source of the explosion. Numair stood in the middle of the camp, rage rolling off him in waves. The only time Daine had ever seen him so angry was in the visions she had received during her enchanted sleep in Carthak. Despite there being half a camp and almost twenty men between them, it made her shudder.

Black fire with silver flecks engulfed the Riders, and when it dispersed the ropes that had bound them were gone. With a collective roar they surged to their feet and charged the bandits, snatching up the weapons that had been stolen from them and then displayed as a sign of their weakness. The leader shrieked with fury, scarlet fire growing around his hands. He flung it at Numair, who blocked it easily.

As he moved to fight the leader, Numair's eyes briefly sought out Daine's. The message in them was clear: run. She did as he ordered and ran as fast as the wound in her side allowed. However, she had no intention of staying away. In this shape she would be no help; she needed clothes and her bow before she could rejoin the fight. She hurried through the forest, following the familiar tingle in her mind that meant Cloud was near.

_Foolish colt, _the pony scolded as Daine came into sight, _what tricks have you been up to now? I've never seen the stork-man fret so much. _

Kitten, who had been idly batting a rock between her forepaws, hurried over to her ma. Pushing her snout against Daine's fur, she gave a low, anxious whistle.

_I'm fine, _Daine called to Cloud, _I just need to get my bow and then I can go back and help Numair. _

_You're being foolish again. You can't fight, you're injured! _

_I've had worse, _Daine said grimly as she returned to her two-legger shape. The world swam before her eyes, even the ancient trees that surrounded her becoming a blur. She waited for everything to right itself, but instead a wave of nausea almost brought her to her knees. Trying to maintain her balance, she was dimly aware of Cloud calling to her but she didn't have the strength to respond. Struck by sudden dizziness, she relinquished the battle to stay on her feet and crashed to the floor, her eyes sliding shut.

* * *

The first thing she became aware of when she woke was that she was no longer lying on hard earth, but on thick cloth. The second thing was the rather heavy lump on her chest. She shifted and the lump moved, letting out a sharp trill of annoyance. 

"Kitten, quiet," someone whispered. "You'll wake Daine."

"I'm already awake." Daine croaked.

Numair's face appeared over hers, his eyes worried. Gently pushing away a disgruntled Kitten, Daine struggled to sit up straight. Numair hurried to help her, supporting her elbows as she rose. "Where am I?" She asked.

"The Rider camp," he said. "We cleared out the bandits."

"Are the Riders-?"

"All alive," he quickly reassured her. ""Injured and shaken, but alive. How are you feeling."

"Groggy and a bit sore, but all in one piece." She grimaced, pressing a hand to the side where she had been cut by the bandit.

"Good," he said quietly. A short pause followed, and when Numair didn't seem to be able to contain himself any longer he burst out, "What on earth were you thinking?" He all but shouted the words, almost making Kitten topple over in astonishment. "You could have been killed! Couldn't you have waited just a minute longer for me?" He raged. "Do you even have any idea of how much blood you lost through that cut? It's fortunate that all you did was faint!"

"I had no idea of knowing how long you would be," she said, unable to comprehend Numair's sudden anger. She had received far worse injuries in the past, had almost lost an arm before, and he had never reacted like this. "I couldn't just stand by and watch while people were murdered."

Numair opened his mouth to retort and quickly shut it again, crossing his arms over his chest as he did. "Food and then more rest," he said briskly. "We return to Corus at dawn tomorrow."

Daine frowned in confusion. She had expected that they would be leaving in the morning, but not in such a hurry. If the bandits were dead the danger was gone. It was important that Jonathan get a report, she knew, but there was no need for such haste. "Are we in a rush?" She said.

Numair's mouth set in a grim line and he nodded. "I said we killed the bandits, but we managed to take one alive. The mage. Before we had the chance to question him, he took his life with his Gift. Tortall isn't known for cruel punishments, and he clearly had no fear of death. I think it likely that he killed himself so he couldn't pass us information, so he could protect something or someone. If so, Jon needs to know and he needs to know now."

* * *

Daine had risked Numair's wrath by forgoing food to return to sleep. The next time she woke there was a fierce ache in her belly, and she found that a vixen and her cubs had made themselves at home in her bedroll. The vixen explained that she had sensed Daine was People, a friend. She hadn't wanted to walk through a camp of two-leggers (even if they were asleep) to get to her, but something had been crashing around in the bushes, scaring her little ones. 

Rising from her bedroll, Daine quickly dressed and armed herself with bow and arrow. It was doubtful that whoever disturbed the vixen was an enemy, she fully expected to find a Rider who had lost his way to the latrine in the darkness, but it never hurt to carry a weapon.

Trying hard not to think of what Numair would say if he knew about her late night expedition, she slipped out of the tent and disappeared into the surrounding trees.

* * *

Since the disastrous day when shape shifting had almost cost him his life, Numair had taken on his hawk form numerous times. Despite his initial trepidations, nothing awful had happened until now. He felt exactly as he had on the day he met Daine: weak, sick, helpless. His one consolation was that this time he recognised Daine, knew her as a friend. 

From where he lay, dizzy and confused, on the forest floor he could see her stumbling around. Although they were surrounded by dirt and branches that could easily tear delicate cloth, she wore the beautiful blue and grey clothing that she had donned for their first meeting with Kaddar. The sapphire drops she wore in her ears twinkled and gleamed in the sunlight. Her hair, normally held back by pins or ties, tumbled past her shoulders, framing her anxious face.

She called his name, softly at first but gradually getting louder as she couldn't find him and her panic increased. Several times she came within inches of where he lay, but every time her searching eyes passed over him. Knowing that he could communicate with her as the People did whilst in hawk form, he called to her with his mind. Even with the full force of both his mind and his Gift behind his cries, she couldn't hear him. Eventually bone weariness and the sickness that ran through his veins rendered his voice a whisper, and her name became a comforting mantra as he slipped into a fog that clouded his senses.

Movement. A giant's leg, from Numair's diminished perspective, stepped over him. It was clad in the finest materials: red silk edged with gold and a jewelled sandal. A low chuckle emitted from the giant, and it sliced through the haze surrounding Numair. He would remember the sound of that voice for as long as he lived, having spent most of his life as the owner's friend and the rest as his enemy.

Ozorne towered over him, a grin twisting his face, his eyes narrowed in a mixture of hatred and anticipation of what was to come. For a moment Numair thought he would be crushed beneath one of those sandals, or perhaps roasted by the former emperor's Gift, but then Daine called his name again and Ozorne's head whipped towards her. A flash of white teeth as he leered at the helpless hawk and then Ozorne was gone, stalking towards Daine as she continued her search, unaware of the sudden danger.

Now Numair put even his life force behind calling Daine. He screeched her name until he thought he would perish with the effort, but the only purpose it served was to amuse Ozorne further. A strangled cry escaped her when she noticed the enemy, but by then it was too late. Ozorne had her shoulders in a crushing grip.

Never loosening his hold on her, he spun Daine around so that Numair could see her face. Finally, she saw the hawk on the ground and her eyes lit with recognition. Her lips moved in a silent plea for help. Although he would give anything, his Gift, his very life, to take her away from the monster that held her, he was no more capable of rescuing her than he was of raising the dead.

Ozorne caught a curl of Daine's unruly hair between two fingers and then lifted it to his face, brushing his lips against it. Keeping his eyes locked on Numair's, he pressed a kiss against her head that had it been from anyone else would have been gentle, even loving. Then he raised his hands from her shoulders and placed them firmly on either side of her head. With a final, mocking grin at his old enemy he twisted Daine's head sharply.

The crack that echoed through the silent forest chilled Numair's blood. He watched with horror as Daine's suddenly lifeless body slipped from Ozorne's grasp to the ground. Darkness encompassed him like a blanket, and for the sweetest of moments he thought that death had claimed him too. How could he live when the young woman he had fought and laughed with for over three years was gone? How could he live in a world where she wouldn't smile or cry? How could he live knowing he had failed her as a teacher, a guardian, a _friend_?

Then he heard someone call his name, and he knew he still lived. The voice sounded achingly like Daine's, but that was just a trick. It had to be Ozorne, come to kill him, or else a friend come to rescue him when he only wanted to remain on the forest floor next to the shell that looked like Daine, but was devoid of her warmth, her life.

Still the voice persisted.

Numair's eyes snapped open. He was in the tent pitched in the forest near Green Lake, and Daine was hovering anxiously over his bedroll. Relief flooded him as he saw her, pushing aside the lingering remnants of his nightmare.

"I'm sorry to wake you," she murmured. "I didn't want to, but…" she trailed off, nodding towards the bundle she cradled in her arms. He hadn't noticed it before, but now his eyes widened as it trembled and sighed. Beneath the thick blanket that Daine carried, a small child was concealed.


	5. Corren

Numair and Daine hovered anxiously over the bedroll. Ensconced within the warm layers of fabric was a small boy, who alternately muttered and fell into long, drawn out silences as he slept. Only his head poked out from underneath the blanket; mud clung to his blonde hair, sticking the strands together, and, more worryingly, rust coloured dried blood streaked through the filth. Smears of dirt marred his porcelain cheeks, made pale with cold, and the edges of his lips were unnaturally white. Beneath his closed eyelids, his eyes jerked frantically from side to side, as if searching for some hidden enemy.

Edwin rose to his feet, wiping sweaty palms on the thighs of his breeches. Despite the cutting chill in the air, his chest was bare and the breeches were made of thin cotton, not the sturdy material of the Rider uniform. When Daine had roused him with the news of an ill child, he hadn't paused to pull on any clothes and had proceeded to hurry to Numair's tent in his sleeping gear. "His temperature was dangerously low, but as long as you keep him bundled up and feed him as soon as he wakes, he should be fine." Edwin said, looking relieved and exhausted.

The rush of gratitude and relief that Daine felt was dizzying. When she had found the child in the forest, unmoving and icy cold, there had seemed little hope that he would live. For over an hour she'd been operating on anxiety alone, and now that she knew the boy would survive all energy seemed to be sapped from her body. Exhaustion, caused by the battle she had engaged in and the effort of recovering from the wounds she had sustained, settled over her like a heavy blanket. She swayed on her feet.

Numair jerked forwards to catch her before she could fall, but Edwin got there first. Strong hands landed on Daine's shoulders, steadying her and holding her upright. Once he was certain that she wouldn't fall, Edwin slid a finger beneath her chin and tilted her face upwards, searching her eyes for any kind of confusion. "You should be in bed," he scolded her gently. "I burned out any infection in your wound, but too much exertion could lead to illness. Would you like me to check you over again?"

Daine smiled. "You've done enough for one day, you should be resting yourself," she told him. As the only healer attached to the Rider Group, it had fallen to Edwin to heal the wound inflicted on her by the bandit. Although she hadn't been conscious when he had set to work on her, she knew that he only had a small amount of Gift, and the effort required to heal exhausted him. He should be in bed resting, but instead he had been called out to heal again.

Another hand closed around the top of her arm. Numair's grasp was gentle, but he pulled her firmly out of Edwin's grip. "_I _will care for my student," he said, and the tone of his voice suggested that he wouldn't be argued with. Edwin surveyed him in silence for a moment, clearly torn between a desire to make sure that Daine was healthy and fear of the black robe mage. Eventually the fear, coupled with the fatigue that was steadily taking over his body, won out.

Running a shaky hand through his mane of black, shaggy hair, he said, "Alright. But if she shows any sign of fever or illness, come to me straight away."

"Of course," Numair said curtly.

"Thank you," Daine said loudly, shooting a stern look at Numair. She was suddenly irritated beyond words with his coolness towards the man who had probably saved a child's life. Smiling, Edwin nodded at Daine and left the tent in a hurry, presumably looking forward to snatching an hour of sleep before the commander's dawn call summoned them all to a new day of work.

Daine rounded on Numair, fully intending to scold him even if she was the student and he the teacher. But before she could so much as open her mouth, his fingers were digging into her shoulders and he was forcing her to look up at him, as Edwin had done only moments before. His eyes were frantic, and on his face she could see concern and anger fighting for dominance. "Are you determined to send me to an early grave?" He hissed. "Why, in the name of Mithros, did you wonder into the forest _alone _at _night_?"

"I've already told you, the vixen-"

He shook his head impatiently. "I know about the vixen. When you knew something was wrong, why didn't you wake me?"

This struck Daine as slightly ridiculous. Since coming to Tortall, there had barely been a night when she hadn't been woken by some of the People. No matter how careful they might be, sometimes claws or wet fur brushed against her skin, rousing her. At other times they were scared or injured, and had come to her for comfort and aid. If she woke Numair every time she had a late night furred or feathered visitor he would never sleep. "I _didn't _know that anything was wrong," she said, keeping her voice low so as not to wake the slumbering child. "The vixen told me she heard something crashing around and I went to see what it was. I thought it was a Rider who had lost their way to the privy!"

"It might not have been," he insisted, "it could have been a bandit, or a spidren, or-"

"You know full well that I would have sensed it if it was an immortal," she interrupted, "and all the bandits are dead."

Numair let go of her shoulders and took a step back, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes wearily. "You have no notion of the danger you are in, do you?" He asked quietly.

"No more than I usually am."

He stared at her for a moment, aghast. "No more than-? Daine, _you _exposed Ozorne's lies at the peace negotiations, _you _pulled down most of his palace, and it was mostly down to _you _that he was stripped of his power and position. Of course you are in more danger than usual, a great deal more."

Gaping at him, Daine searched for words and found that none would come. The idea that Ozorne might actually be alive had never occurred to her before now. "But Queen Barzha and Hebakh!" She eventually spluttered. "_Rikash! _They killed him!"

Shaking his head, Numair said, "No. They intended to kill him; we have no way of knowing whether they succeeded. With Ozorne's status unknown and supporters of his in the realm, we have to assume that you are in danger."

"Mama?" A tiny voice said. Daine and Numair turned, eyes coming to focus on the little boy. He was sitting up, rapidly blinking bleary eyes, and clutching the folds of the bedroll around his chest. "Where's mama?" He asked, fear entering his voice as he realised that he was alone with strangers. Even though Numair walked towards the child slowly, trying not to intimidate him, the small boy still shrank back against the canvas wall of the tent. Sighing, Numair stopped and cast a pleading look at Daine. She didn't need to be told what he was thinking; a girl of fifteen would be less frightening than a man who towered over most of the people he met.

Mimicking her teacher, Daine moved slowly towards the child. His eyes were still wide and fearful, but he no longer shrank away. Once Daine reached the bedroll, she knelt down next to him. "Don't you know where your mama is?" She asked gently. Silently, he shook his head. When she realised that she wouldn't receive anything else in response she asked, "I found you in the forest, do you remember how you got there?"

Again, he began to shake his head. Then he stopped. Long moments passed as Daine waited patiently for his answer. Slowly, his face began to crumple. His lips and chin began to quiver as his eyes filled with tears; suddenly he was howling, great, heaving sobs shaking his tiny frame. Shocked by the sudden outburst from the previously silent child and moved by his distress, Daine forgot his fear of her and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him to her and muttering soothing, nonsensical words. Luckily, the boy also seemed to forget his fear and allowed Daine to hold him. Minutes slipped by in that way, with Daine cradling the child and Numair hovering anxiously nearby, wanting to help but wary of causing fright. Eventually the boy's violent shuddering faded to small shivers, accompanied by the occasional sniff and silent tears.

"They came into our house," he said, words muffled by Daine's shoulder.

"Who?" She asked.

"Men. I heard them. They said-" he broke off, shuddering. After a moment he proceeded, "Bad things. Mama told me to go hide in the trees. She said she would find me but-" another sob rose in his throat, choking him. "She never came. I tried to get home, but I got lost and it got dark and cold."

Daine forced herself to remain calm as she held him, to push away the anger and sickness that suddenly flared in her stomach. It wasn't enough for the bandits to kill the Riders; their blood thirst had apparently needed to be quenched before they had hunted down their quarry. The boy's mother had become their prey and, if they'd had half the chance, they would have killed him too. It seemed too much to hope that the mother had survived, and that she hadn't come to her son because he had lost his way in the forest. Having lost her own mother to bandits, Daine knew that there wasn't much an unarmed, untrained woman could do to fend them off. Her hand shook with the effort of suppressing her rage as she smoothed the boy's hair.

"Do you live in a village?" Numair asked. It was the first time that he had spoken since the boy woke, and the anger that had been present in his voice had evaporated.

The boy's head rose off Daine's shoulder, and he regarded the mage mistrustfully. "It's alright," she reassured him, "he won't hurt you. He's a friend." The look he gave Numair suggested that he very much doubted the verity of her statement, but nevertheless he nodded.

"What's the name?" Numair said, edging closer.

"Dale End," was the whispered reply.

"And what's your name?" Daine asked.

"Corren."

Even though he said it only loud enough for Daine to hear, Numair had somehow managed to pick it up. "Well, Corren," he said, coming to kneel next to the two of them. "We will try to find your home and your mother in the morning. For now," black fire began to gather around his fingers, sparkling in the dim light, "you must rest." He placed two fingers against the boy's temples before he could cower away. Immediately the child's eyes slid shut, and he slumped onto Daine.

* * *

Two hours later, after the sun had been up for over a candle mark, Daine and Numair stood next to their mounts. Kitten, who was already perched on the back of Cloud's saddle, trilled impatiently. On the ground Numair echoed her sentiments, glancing constantly at the sky, as if he expected to find that the sun had sunk back down below the horizon. Daine knew that he wanted to be back in Corus as soon as possible, but she refused to leave until she knew that Corren would be well cared for. She didn't want to leave the terrified boy anyway, especially without saying goodbye first, but she knew there was no point in asking Numair if she could stay behind. 

"As soon as he's fit for the journey, we'll set about finding the village and his mother." Edwin assured her. The dark circles beneath his eyes and the grim set of his mouth were testament to his restless night. Daine felt a surge of guilt that she was adding to his burden, but she would only trust Corren with someone who had dealt with him already.

"What if his mother is-?" The sentence hung unfinished in the air. All three of them knew that in all likelihood his mother was dead.

"We'll see if he has relations in the village, or if anyone will be willing to take him in. If not, he comes with us to Corus."

"But-"

"Daine," Numair interrupted, "I know you are concerned, but we need to leave for Corus _now_. It is imperative that we speak to Jon."

"I'll take care of him," Edwin said quietly. "I promise that he won't come to any harm."

Smiling gratefully, Daine thanked him and gripped his hand in a brief farewell. At Numair's prompt, a small cough, she released Edwin's hand and mounted Cloud. They departed the camp quickly, heading back for the road that would lead them to Corus.


End file.
